


Do Spiderlings Dream of Iron Sheep?

by blondsak



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Author is not a doctor, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Narcolepsy, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-06-28 01:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15697455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/pseuds/blondsak
Summary: A mission leaves Peter with narcolepsy. Tony may or may not be freaking out.





	1. Chapter 1

“Mr. Stark, do you think I can take a look at that raygun with you and Dr. Banner this coming weekend? I’m curious about the structure of the beam’s wavelengths and was thinking it might make a good report topic for my physics presentation in two weeks.”

“We’ll see, Underoos. I gotta have FRIDAY do a complete analysis before _anyone_ goes near it, and especially certain teenagers with a knack for trouble.”

Over the comm, Tony heard what sounded like a small “harrumph” from Peter, but he chose (wisely, Tony would add) not to answer immediately and just kept swinging along.

Tony was just relieved they’d had a 100 percent successful mission, for once. On top of that, it was their first official mission since the defeat of Thanos and the return of the resouled in June, a mere four months earlier. 

SHIELD had notified the Avengers of a shipment of rogue Chitauri tech - a remnant of the Vulture’s operation - that was set to leave Long Island earlier the next morning. As it was only being watched over by a group of six criminals, Peter had been invited along, joining Tony, Nat, Steve, and Sam. And, despite Tony’s worries, it went off without a hitch. Well, besides the one guy who’d shot some raygun beams at them, but Peter had webbed him up before anyone got lasered in half.

After packing away the tech on the Quinjet, everyone besides Tony and Peter departed for the compound. Peter was heading back to Queens for the evening and Tony decided to accompany him before heading back to the compound himself.

They were only blocks from May’s apartment when things went to hell.

“Y’know, Mr. Stark, I don’t think it’s fair to say I have a _knack_ for trouble. It tends to find me sometimes, sure, but no more than any other person bitten by a radioact-”

The comm went silent so abruptly that Tony instinctively looked to where Peter was swinging between buildings below him, only to see something straight out of his nightmares. Peter, who not half a second ago had been flying through the air between webs, was now boneless, soundless and _falling_ toward the pavement not 100 feet below. 

“Sir, Mr. Parker-” FRIDAY began but Tony was already ahead of the AI, flying at breakneck speed in a desperate attempt to catch the kid before he was splattered all over the concrete.

“Go, go, _go_ ,” Tony whispered mindlessly as he flew downward, heart beating just as quickly. If he didn’t get to Peter first, if Peter hit his head on the ground at that speed, if Peter was already somehow _dead_ and Tony was too late - just god, no - no no no - 

Ten feet, _no time_ and Tony thrust his repulsors - 

“AH! - what the?” Peter cried as his body landed securely into Iron Man’s outstretched arms, momentum now carrying them horizontal to the pavement. Tony finally took a full breath as his repulsors slowly lowered them, setting Peter down frantically but not ungently. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, Pete,” Tony said, his mask retracting as his hands started patting down Peter’s head, shoulders and chest. He knew the immediate danger had passed but damn it, the kid had just been _this close_ to being nothing more than a bag of disconnected bones. The whole episode couldn’t have last more than eight seconds, but to Tony it had felt like a half a lifetime. “What the hell, kid? Are you hurt?”

“I - I don’t know?” Peter replied dazedly, looking down at himself before raising a hand to his head and scratching at his temple. “I was just swinging to the next web and then suddenly I couldn’t move anything. I was really tired? And I knew I was falling but I couldn’t stop it and then you caught me, and now I feel okay” - Tony threw him an incredulous look - “I _swear_ , Mr. Stark. I feel just fine.”

“FRIDAY?” Tony asked, still glancing Peter up and down, as though he knew his eyes were deceiving him and some major injury was about to reveal itself.

“I cannot determine with my remote capabilities what caused Mr. Parker’s sudden onset of temporary paralysis, Sir. KAREN is reporting no injuries, despite the direct beam to his chest earlier.”

Tony’s head swung so fast toward Peter that he was certain he’d given himself whiplash, his jaw tightening in a painful frown. Peter had enough humility to shrink inward with shame, taking a big gulp. 

“Oh, yeah, I meant to mention it - _really_ \- but I, uh, may have taken a very, very small - like _tiny_ \- hit from the Chitauri raygun right before I webbed the dude up?”

His voice had gone high at the end, as though that would somehow soften the blow of the betrayal. Tony’s frown deepened so hard he swear he felt a tooth crack. This kid was going to be the death of him.

 

\---

 

“Sir, it appears Mr. Parker had a cataplexic episode brought on by a lack of production of the chemical hypocretin in the hypothalamus.”

“Plain English please, FRIDAY.”

“Mr. Parker appears to be suffering from a type of narcolepsy, Sir.”

Tony and Peter sat in the medbay across from one another, twin looks of shock on their faces. Peter’s eyes widened considerably and his mouth made a small “O” of surprise.

“ _Whoa_. Mr. Stark, can you believe this? This is so -” Peter began just as Tony put a hand up, automatically silencing him.

“Zip it. I don’t want to hear one word from you about how cool this is, or any synonym your late-period millenial brain can think of. It’s not” - Tony threw up air quotes - “ _freaking lit_. It’s goddamn disturbing, and we need to get it fixed pronto.”

“But like, have you ever met someone who-”

“Zip. _It_.” 

 

\---

 

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” Bruce announced as he entered the main medbay room much later that evening, where a disheveled Tony was sitting near the screenwall. Two rooms away, Peter was sleeping (naturally, thank god) and hooked up to a dozen data-transferring electrodes, all of which Tony had been obsessively monitoring even while he pretended not to be. 

Tony lazily motioned the universal signal for 'go on' while continuing to stare at the electrode readings in front of him, absentmindedly fiddling with some spare wires. Bruce’s lips quirked downward as he slapped his hands on his thighs, practically falling into the chair next to Tony. 

“The good news is, I can’t find anything else wrong with him. He is a completely healthy and normal, albeit abnormally enhanced, seventeen year-old.”

Tony looked to Bruce finally. “And?”

“And the bad news is that the polysomnogram data is showing exactly what FRIDAY said. Peter’s neurons are producing hardly any hypocretin, and without that, episodes like the one you described tonight will probably keep happening.”

“Shit. Is there any trouble the kid _doesn’t_ attract?” Tony seemed to say to himself before turning hopefully back to Bruce. “Can we fix it?”

“There’s no cure for it that I know of, Tony.” Bruce rubbed a hand across his face, lost in thought as Tony stared him down. “It’s probably worth seeing what T’Challa can do to help, if anything. But being this was a result of Chitauri technology, I’m skeptical the Wakandans will have much knowledge of use. Honestly, the best bet would probably be the Guardians, but who knows where they are or when they will get back to us. The most we can hope for is to treat the symptoms, at least for now.”

“Alright,” Tony said, standing up and crossing his arms. “And how do we do that?”

Bruce glanced up at him with a small, cheeky grin. “I can think of a few things, but we’re going to need an expert. How fast do you think Clint can get back here from Iowa?”


	2. Chapter 2

Five days later, Peter was back at the compound again for the weekend. Nothing more had happened since the first episode, but that didn’t stop Tony and Aunt May from watching him like two beady-eyed hawks. Tony had put the kibosh on any Spiderman activities that week - “Kid, I don’t need any reason except that it’s a fitting punishment for you withholding pertinent information on a mission, but if you want I can name twenty-three more” - while May had basically put him on what amounted to forced bedrest when he wasn’t at school, citing the likelihood for injury if he collapsed again.

By Friday, Peter was itching to get back to his patrols and training, and the bedrest had given him plenty of time to compile his own list of reasons why he should be allowed to go back out as Spiderman again. However, even as Happy was pulling up the driveway, he could see Mr. Stark at the door. He appeared to be holding a… present?

“Hey Mr. Stark! Who’s that for?”

“You, Spider-Kid. Come on, you can open it in the common area. Dinner is about to start,” Tony said, handing him the wrapped box before turning on his heels to head inside. Peter followed, his brow furrowing as he shook the box slightly. It wasn’t more than a few pounds, if that. 

“W-wait, I’m pretty sure it’s not my birthday.”

“It’s just a little something for your…” Tony waved one hand in the air absentmindedly while pressing the elevator button, “current predicament, shall we say? You’ll see.”

Peter was curious but let it be for now. “Speaking of that, any news from Wakanda? Or Quill and the Guardians?”

“King T’Challa’s sister is looking into what can be done, but so far they haven’t found a fix,” Tony said, before frowning. “No word from the USS Enterprise’s B-Team either. Strange isn’t even sure they’ve gotten the message yet - he was told to leave a flippin’ _note_ at some place called Xandar. Bruce and I have also been working on it, but...” Tony trailed off, frown deepening just as the elevator doors pinged their arrival to the common area.

Peter smiled at his mentor enthusiastically in an effort to cheer him up, carefully shaking the present again while holding it up to his ear. “Sounds good. Well, not _good_ , but I’m sure someone will figure out something soon. And I mean, I know you’re doing everything you can, Mr. Stark. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate -”

Peter words were choked off in silent surprise as they finally entered the common area. It was completely redecorated since last weekend. Gone were the rectangular black coffee tables and wood-armed couches, replaced with circular white ottomans and plush leather furniture. As Peter slowly walked through and looked around, it appeared that every single sharp corner had either been replaced entirely or at least padded over.

“Well, if it isn’t the fainting wonder himself. Hey Pete!”

Peter turned to see Clint Barton in the kitchen, setting plates down for dinner. Sam, Bruce, and Nat were already seated, while Steve was at the counter, putting finishing touches on a giant bowl of spaghetti meatballs. 

“Hey Clint! I didn’t know you were coming back so soon. Hey, guys,” he said, setting down his gift at the table before giving Clint a hug.

Clint smiled as the others greeted Peter, motioning for him to come sit. “I hadn’t planned on it, but some overprotective papa bear convinced me to come early and put my toddler-proofing expertise to use.”

Peter’s head whipped around to Tony, who had entered the kitchen behind him. His eyes were as wide as saucers and he barked out an embarrassingly high pitched giggle. “A toddler?! Mr. Stark, uh, is there something I should know about-”

“Hell _no_ , Peter. I needed Barton’s help to kid-proof this place for the only kid who ever comes around here: you. Now sit down and put on your seatbelt.”

“Seatbelt? Wha-” Peter looked down at the chair Clint had motioned to earlier, just now noticing a lap belt across it. Realization dawned, and Peter couldn’t help the scowl that crossed his face as the others all laughed except Tony, who remained resolute. “Come on, Mr. Stark! I don’t need to put on a seatbelt just to sit down at the table. And all the padding everywhere, seriously? I’m not _three_!”

Tony took his own seat, huffing indignantly. “Right now you might as well be a three year-old as far as I’m concerned. Whether you want to admit it or not, you _are_ currently a danger to yourself, even sitting. Heck, with your track record I really should have done this months ago anyway” - Peter’s squawked a protest - “but with the situation as it is, I’m not taking any chances. If you want to be here, you’re going to follow my rules. Rule numero uno being: _all narcoleptic teenagers shall wear seatbelts at the dinner table_.”

Peter sat down and put on the seatbelt, before letting out a barely-stifled groan. He knew it was futile to argue with Mr. Stark when he was both irritated _and_ worried, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about being treated like a little kid either.

Tony smiled sarcastically before nodding his head at Peter with faux gratitude. “Okay, now that’s all settled, time for your present.”

Peter had completely forgotten about the gift. He had a feeling whatever the it was, he wasn’t going to like it much more than the seatbelt. Reluctantly, he unwrapped it as every present Avenger watched, their smirks slowly growing.

“Mr. Stark, you have _got_ to be kidding me!”

In Peter’s hands was a red and blue helmet. Worse, it had about a dozen cartoon Spidermans flying through the air on it. On the packaging was a photo of a kid who looked ridiculously gleeful wearing the helmet while riding a bike. He also looked to be about ten. 

“Sorry, Peter, that one was my idea,” Bruce said from across the table, looking sheepish. He then turned to Tony disapprovingly, “However, I don’t recall saying anything about making it a child’s helmet, and certainly not one chosen to mock -”

Tony’s smile widened right before he cut Bruce off. “Rule number two: _all narcoleptic teenagers will wear a helmet at all times on compound premises_.”

Peter felt his face flush even more with embarrassment, if that was possible. “With all respect” - Peter softly heard Nat whisper what sounded suspiciously like 'I doubt that' to Sam, who cracked up - “Mr. Stark, this is way too over the top. I haven’t even had an episode since the first one. Who knows if it’s ever-”

Everyone gasped as, without preamble, Peter’s eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped over. Even knowing the circumstances, it was an unnerving sight; the kid looked dead. 

Tony stood up with enough force to make his chair tip. He immediately knelt down next to his kid, patting Peter’s cheek with one hand while shaking a shoulder with the other. “Kid. Hey. _Peter_. I really need you to wake up, buddy.”

Peter’s entire body twitched right before his head shot back up, making everyone jump. Looking around, he quirked his eyebrows at the tense expressions, jumping himself when he realized Tony was next to him, his own face full of worry and concern. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony tipped Peter’s head back and forth, brushing a hand through the kid's hair and looking closely into his eyes. “You just collapsed again, Pete. Do you feel okay? Any headache or...?”

“Y-yeah. Just fine. No headache.”

Tony let out a relieved sigh at that, feeling all the tension leave his body. Despite having an audience, he quickly went in for a one-armed hug, lips barely brushing Peter’s temple - _he’s alright, he’s safe, I’m going to fix this_ \- before going back to his own chair and crossing his arms with authority. “So, you were saying?”

“Okay, okay, I get it, but twice in a week is still statistically-”

“Oh no, we are not making an argument of this, kid. House rule three: _all narcoleptic teenagers shall not argue with_ -”

“This really isn’t fair.”

“- _their benevolent, handsome and vastly more intelligent mentors._ Now put on the helmet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed reading, please leave kudos or a review. Thank you!
> 
> Also, I know these first two chapters have been more humor-heavy, but so much angst is on the way, guys. SO MUCH. I apologize in advance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for gratuitous abuse of italics. Oh yeah, and the beginning of the aforementioned ANGST. Enjoy!

As the weeks passed without major incident, Tony found himself letting up a bit on the stringent rules around Peter’s narcolepsy. Slowly he quit arguing every time the kid pulled his helmet off when he sat down on the couch for movie nights, or when he would return to the table with a second plate of breakfast waffles and conveniently “forget” to click his seatbelt. 

One Saturday night, Tony was working in the lab with Bruce on a possible antidote solution when FRIDAY chimed in. “Sir, I am programmed to inform you that Mr. Parker has just passed out while taking a shower.”

Tony shared a panicked look with Bruce before tossing his pad over his shoulder and running for the workshop doors. However, he wasn’t even to the elevator yet when FRIDAY spoke up once more. 

“Sir, Mr. Parker would like me to inform you that he is _totally one-hundred percent all right_ and that there is _no need to freak_. He also says that if you so much as knock on his bathroom door right now he will _find a way to own you so completely that even your great-great-grandchildren will fear Spiderman’s name_.”

Tony rolled his eyes, turning back down the hallway the way he came. “FRIDAY, tell Peter he better come down to the lab as soon as he has his pajamas on to get checked by Bruce,” and then, after a few moments, “and remind me tomorrow morning to talk to Nat about arranging a time to work with Peter on his intimidation tactics. The kid is seriously lacking.”

“Yes, Sir. Also, please be informed that it appears Mr. Parker’s bathroom shower now needs a new curtain. He tore it off the rack upon falling and, it seems, is still trying to disentangle himself.”

“Jesus. How did he make it to seventeen...” Tony put his hand to his brow, grimacing. “FRIDAY, add ‘Build Peter a bubble to live in’ to my projects list.”

\---

First and foremost in Peter’s mind, of course, and the thing he argued with Tony the absolute _most_ about, was being allowed to still patrol.

“C’mon, Mr. Stark, you’ve invented some of the greatest tech in the _universe_ -”

“Flattery will only get you so far, kid.”

“- surely you can come up with some stuff to keep me safe as a _slightly_ narcoleptic Spiderman?”

The thing was, Tony did have some ideas. During the weekdays when Peter was back in Queens, Tony worked to add upgrades to the Spiderman suit along with protocols that would come in handy should the kid’s issue not have a fix any time soon (a thought Tony wasn’t going to dwell on directly, even as he worked to make it more manageable). When the kid showed up that coming weekend, Tony had no cure updates, whether from aliens, sorcerers or humans, but he did have a newly enhanced suit.

“Okay, Pete, you can put it on and try it out here, but even if all the tests are successful, this does not mean you are allowed yet on patrol. Not until both May and myself deem so are you allowed under any circumstances to put on the suit and fight crime, stop bad guys, be a hero, or anything remotely related to Spiderman. Is that clear?”

“Crystal!”

An hour later, they were in the obstacle arena, Peter swinging around as Tony kept one eye on him and one eye on his wristwatch to crosscheck the suit’s systems. They’d already covered two new suit upgrades: a Chameleon Protocol that rendered Peter’s suit the color of his surroundings so as to blend in with the environment (it’d been years and Tony was _still_ lamenting he didn’t find the kid before he’d chosen bright blue and firetruck red of all colors), and a new series of webshooter combos that created a net anywhere from four to 150 feet in diameter. Both had been complete successes, and Tony was feeling more than a little impressed with himself.

He spoke into the comm. “Okay, Pete. Last one for today. It’s called the Sleepy Spider Protocol. I want you to swing around to the southwest corner at around forty feet height, and just as you are webbing across to the rectangular jungle set, I want you to go limp and drop.”

Tony felt Peter’s gaze fall to him from across the gym. Even though the arena floor was padded and perfectly safe for an enhanced individual like Peter to land on even from a great height, Tony had never asked him to just go limp and drop before. Despite this, Peter trusted Mr. Stark had good reason to ask, and swung over to the southwest corner just as Tony had instructed.

Though it went against all of Peter’s instincts, as soon as his hand swung out to web to the jungle set, he instead went completely limp. He felt gravity begin to take hold of his body, and a mild panic set in as he had to physically restrain himself from fumbling for purchase. However, not one second later he felt the whoosh of his parachute explode from the back of his suit, and his trajectory immediately slowed to a meandering, downward float. 

“Oh, hey! Cool! Is it programmed to recognize if I pass out then?”

“Sure is, kid. Should slow you down even as low as twenty feet, though it might still be a rough landing.” 

Tony met Peter as he softly landed on the ground, his parachute trailing behind him. “You haven’t seen the best part yet though. Tell Karen to ‘pack it up.’”

“Karen, Pack It Up,” Peter said dutifully, and without preamble the parachute started to neatly wind itself back into Peter’s suit. “Whoa!”

Tony smiled, clapping Peter on the shoulder. “Karen is also programmed to reel it in on her own even if you land in water, as I’d rather not have a repeat of that incident with the Vulture. But we can test that out at the compound lake another time. So, what do you think?”

“Mr. Stark, these are all _awesome_. So, does this mean I can go patrolling then? I mean, with these upgrades I think I’d be pretty safe.”

Tony merely rolled his eyes and started walking toward the elevator, Peter following behind. “Kid, these upgrades were just as much for your _general_ safety as for the narcolepsy. Y’know, the more you push the more stubborn I’m-”

_Whoosh!_

Tony turned around just in time to see Peter hit the ground, his parachute a sad deflating mass behind him, having done him no favors at the paltry height of five-feet-eight-inches. 

Like a rubberband, Peter was right back on his feet almost as soon as he landed. “Ah _man_. I’m glad it was only you here Mr. Stark, or that would have been really embarrassing… uh, Karen, can you ‘pack it in’ again?”

“ _Only_ Tony Stark - AKA Iron Man - is not embarrassing enough for you? I’m a little worried about how comfortable you’ve gotten around me, underoos.”

“Well, no, I just meant, I mean, you are _really_ cool and you still are my hero and everything - I mean, not _hero_ , that's weird, but someone I look up to a lot - and obviously it is embarrassing in front of you too, but like, if Steve or Natasha were here it would have been _extra_ -”

“Stop while I can still see you on the horizon, kid.”

\---

Before Tony knew it, six weeks had passed since Peter’s initial diagnosis and it was early November. He’d meant to check in with Strange about any contact from the Guardians, but Fury had called on the Avengers to infiltrate a HYDRA base in South America, and they’d been gone for nearly a week. Tony had kept up with the kid via texts, but now it was Friday, they were back home and he was looking forward to seeing Peter again.

However, as Peter walked into the kitchen just before dinner with Happy trailing behind him, Tony couldn’t help but notice the slow, jerky movements of the kid. Mumbling hello to everyone, he went straight to his chair, clicking the seatbelt and, without further ado, resting his head down on his forearms. After sharing a confused look with Bruce and Happy, Tony asked delicately, “Everything alright, Pete? You look a bit wiped out there.”

“Sorry, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, the table muffling his response. “I don’t know what’s up. I’ve been really tired all this week. I don’t have a fever or anything though, don’t worry.”

After silently confirming this with FRIDAY on his watch, Tony continued, “Schoolwork got you down?”, then, narrowing his eyes, “You haven’t been out patrolling this week, taking advantage of our absence? Because if so, kid, you got-”

Peter raised his head and shook it. “No, of course not!”

Tony sighed. “Okay, I believe you. But still, you don’t look like you’re up for the lab tonight. How about you go lie down after dinner? I’ll wake you up before we start a movie, and you can watch if you feel up to it. Though, you might want to stay in bed - it’s Banner’s night to choose and I think I heard something about _You’ve Got Mail_ -”

“Har, har, Tony,” Bruce chimed in from the counter.

Either Peter ignored or was simply too exhausted to respond to the reference, because all he did was solemnly reply, “Sounds good, Mr. Stark.”

\---

Later, Tony would have lots of hours to kick himself over and over again for not probing deeper with his questions, for not bringing Peter immediately down to the lab for tests, for not demanding Bruce do another polysomnogram, for not blasting music and clapping his hands and barking like a seal, _whatever was needed_ to stop what was about to happen. 

He’d blame himself for how nonchalantly he said “I’ll come get you later, kid. Rest easy, got it?”, barely pausing to watch as Peter nodded at him, his smile sincere despite his exhaustion, before ambling down the hallway to his bedroom. 

He’d never forgive himself for the three wasted hours he spent catching up on Stark Industries e-mails, calling Pepper for the second time that day just to lament once again her elongated business trip, and even working on the goddamn _NYT_ crossword, all while his kid slowly succumbed just four rooms away.

He’d regret all of this in dark, lonely, hopeless nights ahead, but for now, unaware of what was to come, his walk was light as he headed to Peter’s room.

He knocked softly on the door. “Hey kid, you up yet? Everyone’s ready for the film.”

No reply. Tony knocked again, waiting five seconds before quietly turning the knob and slowly entering. Peter was still in bed, on his side, facing away from the door. 

“Hey kiddo, must be pretty tired, huh?” Tony sat down on the edge of the bed, softly putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder, not wanting to startle him. “Peter?”

Nothing. Peter didn’t so much as shift an inch. Tony shook his shoulder once gently, then again two seconds later with more force. “Hey kid. Kid? 

" _Peter_?”

\---

Bruce had finished queuing up _You’ve Got Mail_ , his smirk widening, while Natasha, Clint, Sam and Steve jokingly argued over the popcorn bowls as they all waited for Tony to return with Peter. The laughter and jovial atmosphere were sharply cut off at the sound of running footsteps and a shredded cry for help. Bruce turned just in time to see Tony rush in, a large bundle of blankets and limp teenager in his arms. The devastated expression on his face was one of complete terror and panic, so much so that Bruce had a seconds-long certainty of _Peter is dead, he must be_ when the full force of Tony’s despondent gaze fell on him. 

“Bruce! Please, it’s Peter, he’s not - _no, don’t you dare_ ,” Tony growled as Steve attempted to take Peter out of his arms. Steve immediately threw up his hands in surrender, everyone in the room recognizing Tony’s fierce protectiveness for what it was: a panicking father desperate to save his child. “Something’s wrong with him. _Jesus_ , Bruce, help me - he’s not waking up. Peter’s not waking up.”

Peter was the only one still calm in the storm now encompassing the room. He lay in Tony’s arm, unmoving, one arm draped over Tony’s shoulder while another one fell limply toward the floor, swaying slightly as Tony adjusted to hold him closer. His eyes were closed, brown curls stuck to his forehead with dried sweat, his mouth slightly open as if he was only pausing for a breath in one of his many ramblings. Was he even breathing? God, Bruce couldn’t tell. 

In that moment, it was undeniable: Peter looked dead. And Tony didn’t look like he’d ever be ready to accept it.


End file.
